As Darkness Falls
by smartone101
Summary: It's been six years since Nyx gained control. A new prophecy has been discovered, and a few free demigods suspect that it is already in motion. There are five pieces in this game, though, and for some of them, time is already running out.
1. Chapter 1: Stefan

It was dark outside when the boy slipped away from the house. His aunt would likely not notice, and if she did, she would not care if he never returned. One less mouth to feed was all he meant, all he ever would mean, to her. This was part of the reason he had chosen to run. That, and the way his cousins had glared at him every time he walked by, the shoves and punches and kicks when nobody was looking. He couldn't stand it anymore, and so he had left. He stood at the edge of the yard for a moment, facing the house. Then, he turned and walked away, his feet kicking up the rocks by the edge of the road.

To look at, the boy was nothing special. Dark brown hair, blue grey eyes, and a dreamy look haunted his thin face. Everything about him was thin; from his face to his hands to his feet. His name, too, was made of thin letters. _What is my name?_ He had repeated it every night after his aunt had taken him into her house, just so he could remember some small piece of his former life. For a moment, he could not remember, but as he forced old, comforting memories to the surface of his mind, the name returned to him. "Stefan," he whispered. "My name is Stefan." His voice was soft, as it always was, soft and thin, yet strangely comforting. He stepped a little more quietly, as though he was afraid that someone had heard him walking. Even then, he knew that no one had heard him. No one ever seemed to hear Stefan when he did not want to be heard. As he listened, he slowly made his footfalls softer and softer until he was walking silently. Silence had always been Stefan's friend. Silence and the soft, sweet sound of his mother humming. His mother was dead, though, and there was no silence in his aunt's house, only cruel laughs and soft sobs muffled by his pillow.

Stefan touched a finger to his lips, and the world fell silent around him. It was something he had discovered when he was very young, and a storm had raged outside. He slowly let his hand drop, and the night noises began again. This time, though, he could faintly hear the sound of the highway as he drew nearer to it, fleeing the small, cramped town where he had lived for the past few years.

As he reached the highway, a car went by, momentarily blinding him with its headlights. He winced, but continued walking, resisting the urge to silence the engines of the cars that continued to rush by, even in the night. Stefan sighed, blocking the noise from his mind, and began walking. Perhaps he could get far enough away by morning that nobody would bother to look for him even if his aunt noticed he was missing.

He looked up at the sky. It was dark, with only a few stars showing. The nights were always longer and darker now, he thought. The change had come about six years ago, so he could not be sure, but he thought that every year, the darkness deepened a bit more, and the nights lasted just a little longer. It scared him, in a way. Eventually, the darkness could be complete, and that would be the end of everything he had ever known.

The sound of a car slowing to a halt startled him out of his thoughts. He looked over, his eyes large and frightened. One of the occupants in the car rolled down the window and sprayed something in his face. A moment later, Stefan was on the ground, writhing in pain as his eyes burned. _Pepper spray_, was his only coherent thought for a long while. Still blinded, he felt someone –no, two people- picking him up and pushing him into a small space, even by Stefan's standards. His hands were pulled away from his face, and a rough rope wrapped them behind his back. The pain in his eyes was only beginning to subside, and he was still making soft sounds of agony. Three doors slammed in quick succession, and a moment later he felt the car moving. Like it or not, he was on his way to an unknown destination, with two people he had never seen before, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

When he finally worked up the courage to open his eyes, he could see nothing. For one, terrifying moment, he thought he was blind. Then, feeling his way around the space as well as he could with bound hands, he realized that he was in the trunk of a car. There was nothing he could do. Had his hands been free, he could have stopped the engine, but they were not, and so he was helpless. Stefan closed his eyes again, and although he thought it would never happen, he fell asleep.

Stefan was not quite sure why he woke. It could have been a slamming door, or the ceasing of the car's noise. Either way, he found himself awake, and could hear footsteps coming toward his end of the car. The trunk opened, and he cringed away from the light that poured in, his eyes having become accustomed to the darkness. He was lifted out of the trunk by two people he could not glimpse, as they immediately threw him to the pavement. Stefan moaned weakly as his head struck the ground. A knee was pressed into his back, and a cloth was tied over his eyes. He was hauled to his feet, something sharp was pressed into the small of his back, and a cold voice told him to walk forward. "Who are you?" he asked quietly. "Why am I here? If this is a kidnapping, nobody who knows me had any money."

There was a sharp flash of pain as someone struck him across the face. "No questions," the same voice told him. "Do as you're told and we won't have to kill you."

Stefan nodded, now terrified of what could happen. He was walked through several doors, and he could feel the floor beneath his feet changing from tile to carpet. Finally, he was stopped, and someone forced him to his knees. A low voice whispered in his ear. "We're going to take off the blindfold. If you try to look around, we'll make the rest of your life more painful than you could possibly imagine. Understand?" He nodded again, though he was trying to concentrate on the muttering of someone on the other side of the room. The muttering stopped, the cloth was taken away from his eyes, and Stefan stared at a message in mist.

A tall woman with dark hair was seated on a throne. Someone behind Stefan cleared their throat. "We've found the half-blood you requested."

Stefan was mystified. "What are you talking about? Half of what?"

The woman on the throne smirked. "He doesn't even know yet? Better and better. You two have done well. Now, boy, what is your name?"

Stefan wanted to look away, but found that he could not. "Stefan. Why do you want to know?" Something jabbed him in the back, and he winced.

"Stefan, don't mind them. Listen to me. You are more important than anyone knows. And other people want to suppress that power, to keep it locked away from you." The woman watched him closely, her black eyes cold.

He shook his head. "I- I don't understand. I don't know where I am, or who you are, or why I'm here. I don't even know who I am, really."

She sighed. "I am the one who is really in control of this world. I am the one who brought the darkness. I can help you, child. If you chose to join me, you will become powerful, and I will guide you. If not, well…I can't let your power be used against me. You would not be killed, but you may wish you had been. Join me."

The problem was, Stefan wanted to believe her. Something was snaking through his mind, a thought which insisted that this was the only reasonable course of action. He shoved it away and shook his head again. "No. I won't. Just- leave me alone."

She smirked again. "Well, you heard him. Put him in the guestroom, and leave him alone like he asked." Snickers could be heard from behind him. The woman waved a hand, and the image dissipated. Stefan found himself being forced to his feet again. The blindfold was not put back on, but he was half marched, half shoved down several hallways until he reached a door. There was a noise behind him, and he realized a moment too late that his ankles had been tied together. A hand reached forward from behind him and turned the door handle. The door swung open, revealing only darkness beyond.

"Go on, get in there," a voice snapped. Stefan shook his head, edging away from the door. Something about it didn't seem right. It was only when he felt the hands on his back that he realized he could not see a floor in the room. By then, though, it was too late to do anything as he was pushed in, and fell to the hard ground below with enough force to steal the breath from his lungs. As he lay gasping on the concrete, he looked up, and saw the door beginning to close, about twelve feet above him. "Do you want to keep the light?" a mocking voice asked. Stefan tried to speak, but had not yet regained his breath. "No? That's such a pity. You won't be seeing any for a long time." The door swung closed, and he could hear a lock being activated. Stefan, who had been struggling to sit up, slumped back to the ground in despair as darkness wrapped around him.

Stefan could not say how much time passed in the dark, damp, cold pit. What he did know was that, except for a small bottle of water tossed down to him soon after he had fallen, he had nothing to eat or to drink. He had landed on his wrist, as well, and the pain from that threatened to overwhelm him several times. A chill crept into him as well, and he was soon shivering on the floor as he tried to curl into a ball to keep himself a little warmer. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and his mouth had dried out from the thirst which kept him awake. Coughing fits shook him when he tried to shout for help. He had not slept the first few days, and now he found that sleep would not come to him.

Every once in a while, the door would open above him, and he would hear a cold voice asking if he wanted to give up yet. Each time, he said no, until he could no longer find the energy even to do that. The visits had stopped then, leaving him in darkness all the time. There was nothing in the pit which he could eat, either. In the earlier stages, when he was still strong enough to move, he had inched his way around the perimeter. As far as he could tell, the floor was made up of concrete, as were the walls. There was nothing he could eat, nothing he could drink, and no way to escape.

A day came, though, when the door was flung open again, and two dark figures climbed down. "He's still alive," one noted. "Doesn't look great, though, and he smells disgusting."

"What did you expect?" the other voice answered. "He's been down here for a long time, remember? At least he won't be our responsibility after this, though." Strong arms lifted Stefan from the floor, and he was carried out of the pit. A blindfold was tied around his eyes again, but this time he did not mind. The lights, even in the halls, had seemed unbearably bright. Even if he had not wanted the blindfold, he was too weak to struggle. The ever-thinner boy was carried for a while, and then tossed once again into a car. This time, though, he thought he was on the seat rather than in the trunk. He supposed it was because he was less of a threat this time, but the thought did not stay long. The car started up, and he closed his eyes, falling asleep in moments as he was brought further away from his former home, and further away from any hope of rescue.


	2. Chapter 2: Jesse

A sleek, dark motorcycle was parked near the agreed meeting place. The teenager on it, a lanky youth with reddish-brown hair and cold green eyes, walked into potentially hostile territory without a second thought. He was unarmed, as always. It was a measure of trust on his part, and it helped make these renegade demigods trust him more. He looked around carefully, trying to see if he could spot a lookout. He finally saw two atop the roof of the nearby building. Sticking two fingers in his mouth, the boy let out a long whistle, smirking as the sentries jumped in shock. Then, he walked into the building closest to him.

The front room was empty, as it usually was. He ran a hand through his hair, and shouted. "Hal! I know you're around here somewhere! Get out of wherever you're hiding!" There was a short pause, then a slight crackling sound, and a voice came from some hidden speaker.

"Hey, Jesse. Nice to see you're here again. No need to shout, though. There's surveillance here, and I rigged up an intercom system. Hold on a moment, I'm sending you up to my office. Sit on the chair in the corner, please." Rolling his eyes, the boy did so, and a moment later, the section of floor, along with the chair, slid smoothly up the wall, disappeared through a hole in the ceiling, and reappeared in the so-called office of the girl Jesse knew as Hal. In front of Jesse was a wooden table, and facing him was Hal herself. She was smirking.

"Nice system, huh?" Hal had always been rather proud of her ideas. Although he would never show it, Jesse was impressed as well. He suspected Hal was a daughter of Apollo, but he couldn't understand how she could come up with such ideas. Jesse nodded absentmindedly, listening carefully for any sound of activity from neighboring rooms. All he heard, as always, was rock music played softly from somewhere in the room. The singer sounded suspiciously like Hal.

"That's your music, isn't it?" he asked. The question had been on Jesse's mind several times, but this was the first time he'd asked. "You and your band." He knew he was right when Hal's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Yeah…Hal and the Chosen, we call ourselves." She sat down in a simple wooden chair across the table from him, brushing her short, white-blond hair behind her ears. "Now, spill the beans. What did you find out this time?" Jesse ran a hand through his hair. He had no doubt that Hal could be nice if she wanted to be, but she seemed to distrust him.

"Okay. A new demigod was captured maybe five days ago, at the least. He's been brought to Nyx's headquarters, down in the Underworld. I don't know for sure, but they think he's important, even though he seems like the son of some minor god or goddess." Jesse watched Hal for a reaction. He never got one, but he hoped that someday he would. As usual, her face was blank.

"How very interesting," she said quietly. "Is there anything else?" For the next fifteen minutes, the pair talked about various preparations Nyx was making. Finally, Hal stood. "That'll be all for now, Jesse. You've done a good job, as always, but you'd better get back before anyone suspects you." She set a bag of golden drachmas down on the table. Jesse nodded, took the bag, and left without another word.

Once outside, he headed straight for his motorcycle. These days, leaving stuff around for too long would get it stolen, even if it had certain protections on it. Jesse had seen a mortal running around with a celestial bronze sword once, swinging it carelessly and wondering why it didn't affect humans. He had had to take the sword away using force, although he had received a nasty slice across his upper arm in doing so.

Jesse started the motorcycle, heading away from the city. His mind slowly drifted away from the information he had given Hal, thinking back over all that had happened to him. _How did I ever end up here?_ There could be no real answer to that question. Had someone watched Jesse as he was six years previously, you would hardly know that they were the same person, even if one disregarded the fact that Jesse had been ten years old at the time.

He stopped beside a cornfield. There were few enough of those left, but he had stopped at this one every time he had gone to give information to Hal. Jesse slipped off his motorcycle and walked into the corn, dry leaves crackling as he pushed through them. He walked until he could no longer see the road. Then, he knelt in the dirt and bowed his head. "Mother," he said quietly. "Lady Demeter. I ask forgiveness for the things I have done since I last was here. It was done only to achieve peace. I brought nothing to offer this time, but I hope you will accept this." Jesse gathered corn leaves into a pile. They were dry and brittle, and would serve his purpose. From his pocket, the boy took a packet of matches, struck two, and lit the leaves. He watched until the neighboring stalks caught fire, and then left the field as quickly as he could. From the relative safety of the road, he watched the cornfield burn.

Jesse hoped that the burnt field would not be a loss to the owner. The corn was long gone, and the ashes would hopefully enrich the soil, come spring. At times, though, Jesse wondered if spring would ever come again. It was autumn still, but winters were long and harsh. He could not afford to slip up now. One mistake and the young son of Demeter would not survive the winter. However, he shook the thoughts from his head, restarted his motorcycle, and continued down the road. Behind him, the smoke rose into the air, visible for several moments before it faded.

He made it back to the Underworld as night was falling in the lands above. Jesse went immediately to Nyx's throne room, and knelt before her. "I- I have talked with the rebels," he said quietly, and then related all that he had heard from Hal. Every word pained him, but he tried not to show it. To show any sympathy towards the rebels was punishable by death, if the circumstances were extreme enough. Jesse knew without being told that if he let anything slip about the things he had told Hal, he would either die quickly, or die slowly, but would die all the same. The best way to keep her safe, and to achieve the peace he dreamed of, was to act as though he was working for Nyx.

After a while, Jesse was dismissed, and he trudged out of the throne room, thoroughly demoralized. He muttered the list of this he must do under his breath, hoping nobody would overhear him. "Check on the prisoner –Stefan, he said his name was. Then see if there's anybody new that needs training in, so I can check for a possible rebel for Hal…Then sleep." Jesse grabbed a bag from his room, then headed down to the cell where Stefan was being kept. At the moment, he was the most important prisoner in the Underworld, as Nyx suspected that he may be one of the demigods mentioned in a prophecy. Jesse couldn't care less about any prophecies. They never seemed to help, and only resulted in people being killed. He quickly made his way down to the prison block, and found Stefan's isolated cell.

He quietly slipped a stolen key ring out of his pocket and opened the door. It was dark inside, as it always was, and Jesse had to feel his way around until he found the ladder. It was made of old, slightly frayed ropes, and he never trusted it much. Still, it was the only good way to get down to the floor of the cell. Making sure that the bag was still slung over his shoulder, he quickly closed the door most of the way, then climbed down the ladder. The floor of the cell was slightly damp, he knew, and he was thankful that he had good, thick shoes. If there was one thing Jesse couldn't stand, it was getting his feet wet. "Stefan?" he called softly. "Are you awake?"

There was a muffled cough from one corner. Jesse carefully took a flashlight out of his bag. Turning it on, he covered most of the end with one hand. The longer Stefan stayed in the darkness, the more sensitive his eyes were to light. The last time Jesse had visited, he had forgotten to block most of the light, and Stefan was momentarily blinded. Slowly, he made his way to the corner where Stefan was slumped against the wall.

Stefan looked rather sick. His cheeks were sunken, as were his eyes. His skin had paled, his hair was matted and greasy, and there were deep, raw marks around his wrists where they had been bound until a few weeks ago, when Jesse had first discovered him. He coughed again, his thin frame shaking. Jesse cautiously put one hand on his shoulder to steady him. As always, how thin Stefan was shocked and horrified him. He seemed hardly more than skin stretched over bones. "I'm a little better, I think," he said hoarsely. "I don't feel as hungry anymore, and the cough doesn't bother me as much."

Jesse looked at him in concern. "Stefan, you hardly eat anything. You don't feel as hungry because you've almost starved to death." He quickly yanked the thermos out of his pack. "There's soup today. It's a Russian potato soup, so it's mostly liquid. Hopefully you won't have any trouble with it." Jesse took off the top without being asked, sparing Stefan from admitting that he was too weak even to do that. The prisoner gratefully accepted the thermos. Lifting it to his lips, he drank as quickly as he could, practically gulping down the soup. The two spent a few more minutes together, with Jesse telling Stefan what was going on outside. As he rose to leave, he said quietly, "The rebels might try to get you out of here soon. Just hang in there until then." Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he climbed the rope ladder once more.

When he stepped out of the cell, he carefully closed the door. Before he could turn around, though, he was shoved against the wall, and his hands were cuffed behind his back. "You're under arrest," a rough voice said, "for consorting with the prisoner. I will be taking you to see Lady Nyx. As of right now, you have no rights here, and shall be treated accordingly." Jesse was marched all the way back to the throne room, where he was forced to kneel once more while the person behind him explained what had happened. "I was going about my rounds when I heard this half-blood talking to the prisoner," he said. "He offered him food and reassurance, and told him that the rebels would be coming soon. Because of this, I brought him before you, Lady Nyx, and now accuse him of being a rebel spy."

Nyx watched calmly. "Jesse…is what he says true?" Jesse gazed up at her, trying to think of what to say. Finally, an idea came to him.

"It is true that I was talking with the prisoner and giving him food, but I am not a rebel spy!" he protested. "I- I was trying to lull him into a false sense of security, so I would better be able to get answers from him." Nyx's face hardened. She twitched a finger, and thin, dark tendrils crept up from the floor, first lashing around his legs and securing him to the ground before twining up his torso. Where it touched his bare skin, it burned like fire, and he realized a moment too late that the burning sensation cut through his clothing as well where the tendrils touched it. Nyx moved her hand slightly, and the tendrils tightened, wrapping around him more and more. The burning feeling increased, and Jesse cried out in pain. A third time, Nyx moved her hand, and a moment later, Jesse was writhing in agony. A thin smile crept over her lips. As his tortured cries reached their climax, she waved her hand and the tendrils dissipated. Jesse slumped to the ground, drained, his eyes slightly glazed over.

"Jesse," she said in a soft, almost sweet voice. "Do you regret what you did?" The pathetic-looking boy on the floor nodded almost imperceptibly. "Will you ever do it again?" He shook his head very slightly. "Good, good. However, I need some proof of your trust. I'd say two days in one of the dark cells, then maybe a mission. Something…special."

Jesse coughed. "W- wh- whatever my lady desires."

Nyx scowled. "Take him away." Jesse was forced to his feet and marched from the room. He walked slowly down several long corridors, until someone opened a thick, wooden door and shoved him into a darkened room. He stumbled and fell, twisting so he could see the light. The door closed, the light vanished, and Jesse was left alone in the darkness.


End file.
